Bring Out the Clippers
by The Wayward Angel
Summary: Long hair isn't practical for hunting. Sam's gotten away with it for years, but finally Dean puts his foot down and keeps it down.


**Author: The Wayward Angel**  
**Story: Bring Out the Clippers**  
**Word Count: 1100**  
**Chapter: 1/1**  
**Pairings: None  
Spoilers: None**  
**Trigger Warnings: short hair!Sam, bickering**  
**Summary: Long hair isn't practical for hunting. Sam's gotten away with it for years, but finally Dean puts his foot down and keeps it down.**  
**Disclaimer: *laughs for 100000 years***

**Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine. Please feel free to point out any grammatical or spelling errors.**

_Bring Out the Clippers_

Sam's hair was just too long. It was like watching a damn shampoo commercial every time the younger Winchester turned his head. Cue slow motion hair flip. Ridiculous. And not practical for hunting at all. Sure, it was soft and gorgeous, but it also made a good hand-hold for Vampires and Demons and 'Shifters to get ahold of the hunter and toss him across the room. It hadn't been a problem in the past, when Sam kept it cut above his ears, but now…Dean was fed up. It was time to bring out the clippers. But of course, as usual, Sam was being a prissy bitch about it. Sam didn't want his big brother to even touch a single glorious hair on his head.

But they were on a hunt in Nebraska when it finally happened. They thought the nest of Vampires was clear, but they were wrong. One dropped from the rafters as they were walking away and snatched Sam's hair in his disgusting, gnarled hand, yanking him back. Sam yelped then shouted as the Vamp sank his shark-like teeth into the tanned skin on the younger Winchester's neck. A quick swing of Dean's machete and the monster was down for good.

Dean looked up at his little brother, fire and determination in his moss green eyes, "Sam." He said, his lips set into a thin line.

Sam shook his head, "Won't happen again De." He said tiredly, pressing his hand to his neck.

Dean removed his over shirt and pressed it to Sam's neck. "Keep it there 'til we get back, okay?" The elder said, concern replacing rage, fear replacing adrenaline.

At the motel Dean patched Sam back up, glad he didn't need to take his brother to the hospital. He made a move for the clippers and Sam snapped a short but firm, "No!"

"Dammit Sam, that fucking bloodsucker just tried to turn you into a goddamn snack!" Dean snapped back angrily, "We need to cut your fucking hair. It's too damn long."

"No," Sam replied again, lightly shaking his head, his hair brushing against his cheeks as he did, "It won't happen again Dean. Just a freak thing, okay?"

"No, it's not okay." Dean growled lowly, "You got hurt, idiot."

"Just drop it Dean." Sam replied.

Dean glared but left the clippers in his bag. Maybe Sam was right, maybe it was just a freak thing.

Except it wasn't; two weeks later they were in Michigan tracking a Wendigo when it happened again. The fucker was quick and had Sam by his hair in a matter of seconds. The creature wrapped the silken strands in his claws and tugged, dragging Sam up into a tree with him. Sam managed to fire his flare gun into the monster's face, causing it to shriek and drop him. Sam caught a tree branch and held on while the Wendigo fell twenty feet to the forest floor below where Dean fired his own flare gun at it.

Sam climbed down from the tree, throwing Dean a grin but Dean didn't grin back. He looked at Sam with such fury that the younger thought for a moment his brother might be possessed. Aside from a few yanked out strands of hair and several minor bruises and scratches, Sam was fine, but Dean wasn't happy with _fine._ Dean wanted Sam _safe_.

Dean grabbed the clippers once more when they were back in their motel. And again Sam protested.

"If it wasn't my hair, it could have been my shirt. Just a freak thing Dean." Sam said.

"Just like the Vamp in Omaha was a freak thing?" Dean asked, his grip white-knuckled around the hair clippers.

"Yes."

"Dammit Sam," Dean snapped, slamming a hand down on the table, pissed, "Long hair just isn't fucking practical in this line of work! We need to cut your hair."

"No!" Sam yelled back, his eyes blazing.

"Yes!" Dean cried, furious, "And the faster you get that through your fucking thick skull, the easier our life is going to be."

"You're not touching my hair Dean." Sam growled, his eyes darkening in anger.

"Fine!" Dean shouted, throwing the clippers in his bag, "Get your ass killed, see if I care!"

It was a fire, in the end, that did it. In Addison, Texas a building that Dean and Sam were checking out "mysteriously caught fire" while the brothers were inside. They were running for the door when a stray ember caught one of Sam's long, beautiful strands of hair. Dean smothered it quickly and rushed his brother out of the building, but once they were outside Sam knew. He didn't need to see the look of resolve on his brother's face. His hair was going to be cut that night, whether he protested to it or not.

That night Sam sat on the floor of their motel room while Dean perched behind him on the bed, clippers in hand. The right side of Sam's hair was singed a little shorter than the left and Dean fingered the strands for a moment. "I am sorry about this Sammy, but I told you what might happen."

"Just do it." Sam replied, suppressing a flinch at the sound of the clippers buzzing to life.

Dean made quick, but efficient work of Sam's hair, the long strands falling to the ground like dying leaves in fall. Sam shut his eyes and only opened them once the clippers had been shut off, stored back in Dean's duffel. Dean ruffled his little brother's hair, shaking loose and remaining strands. "Go look." He said.

Sam stood and walked to the bathroom, looking in the mirror. He huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his short hair. It was a little longer than Dean's and looked a little boy band-ish, but it wasn't _bad_. Just a little shorter than when he'd left Stanford. In fact, he kind of liked it. The younger Winchester walked out and glared at his brother's smug face. "Shut up." He said, bitch face in full force.

Dean snorted his laughter, smirking, "You actually look like a man, Sammy."

"I said shut up."

"Whatever, bitch."

"Jerk."

**End**


End file.
